A Horse Named Greased Lightening
by stillgoldie1899
Summary: Medda has written a musical, and she wants the newsies to star in it! A quasi-crossover- Medda's musical is based on the story of Grease, as well as the names, only with horses and servants rather then students and cars. Potentially a round-robin.
1. Chapter 1

Jack stared incredulously at the script in his hands. It was thick, with a red cover, and still warm from the press, not even properly bound yet. Medda was grinning at him, with a maniac look in her eyes, and for a moment, Jack was almost afraid. He would have been the first to say Medda was a fine actress, and a good businesswoman, but a playwright? A writer of musicals? Not a chance.

Except she'd written a play. A musical. And she wanted him to star in it. As though he didn't have enough on his plate already, just running the newsies in Lower Manhattan, not to mention heading up the budding, ever growing Newsboys Union (with affiliated Newgirls Union newly formed.)

"His name is Danny O'Malley, and he's a stable hand at a big house just outside the city. He's spent his summer taking care of a sick aunt down on the Atlantic coast, where he met a lovely young lady. However, now he's back at work, taking care of the horses, along with several of his friends. Imagine his surprise when his young lady friend shows up at the house! She's the lady's maid of the fiance of the house's owner's son. Except he never told her he was just a stable boy. Before they discover each other, each tells other people about each other, and their stories don't match at all. The young lady tells the other maids that she met this charming, cultured footman, and he tells his friends that he'd spent his summer with an easy barmaid. And then! One of the parlor maids figures it out, and in a jealous fit, makes sure they publicly encounter each other. Drama ensues! Hearts are broken! Danny -wants- to be the man he told Sandy, his summertime lady friend, he was, and she wants to be the kind of girl he wants, but neither of them can admit it easily. In the meantime, the family has purchased the ugliest, slowest-looking horse in all of the city, and the stable hands are goaded into betting that it could win a race against a horse owned by a neighboring house. So the boys spend their time training and grooming this horse, named Greased Lightening. All winter long this goes on, and in the meantime there are other love triangles, and Sandy starts stepping out with one of the footmen, named Tom, but then agrees to go to the servants social dance with Danny, only to have Danny stolen away at the dance by an old flame from the rival house, whose beau had shown up with the jealous parlor maid, Betty. In the end, there's a race, and Greased Lightening wins, of course, and Danny wins a promotion to footman in the house, but at the same time, Sandy resigns her post to go help out her father, who actually own a bar, so in their own way, they become each other's ideal partner, and they end up together. The jealous parlor maid, who's had all sorts of drama of her own, ends up with Danny's best friend, Kenickie, and another of the parlor maids, who wanted to go to France to study hair dressing, ends up taking Sandy's position as lady's maid. Happy endings all around come spring. What do you think?"

Jack's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "You want me to sing and dance on stage? Medda, you know that's not really my thing..."

"I know, Kelly, but please! I wrote the part for you! It's as limited in the singing and dancing department as I could make it. Just acting. And you're such a good actor...better than your father...please...? Please, Kelly...Frankie...please?" The way Medda's eyes got a big and sad was so much like his mothers that Jack didn't have the heart to say no to her.

"Fine. Fine, fine, I'll do it. You're going to pay me, though, right?" His arms crossed across his chest, and he made damn sure that the look on his face made it clear he was expecting payment for his services.

"Everyone who's involved with this will get paid. I need a bunch of you. It's an opportunity for the lot of you to get experience on the stage, experience that you could take going forward, and turn into proper jobs. Warm, well-paying jobs..." Now that she had him, Medda was back to jabbing him, trying to convince him to get the others to show up at the auditions. "I did sort of write the role of Danny's best friend with Spot in mind...if you could convince him..."

"Spot? Conlon? Playing my best friend? I don't think so. I mean, I like the guy and all, he was a big help during the strike, but...him hauling his ass all the way across the bridge just to be in a show..." Jack shook his head- he knew better then to assume Spot would want anything to do with this madness.

"Tell him he'd be very well paid. And...free drinks, for the lot of you. Free shows...you get to spend your free time hanging around here...with no doormen to chase you out if you don't have a ticket..."

"Fine. I'll tell him, Medda, but no promises." This was a disaster. Jack could tell already. Where was he going to dredge up enough newsies to do this? The girls would be easy enough, most of them loved any excuse to show off, but the guys...that would be so much harder...

"Brilliant! Oh, I'm so excited...if this does well here, it might get picked up by a bigger theater...just imagine it...my name in lights for a stage that I don't pay the bills for..." Medda had just about started drifting away, her arms full of scripts.

"-Your- name?" Jack asked, eyebrow raising.

"Oh, I didn't mention? I'll be playing the owner's wife. I haven't written the owner -into- the play, of course. The assumption is that he's dead, and this poor woman is dealing with all of this on her own, including her son's impending wedding...Do come along, Jack. Pick up those other scripts? They still need to be bound. Now. About -my- character..." Jack was forced to trail after her, sighing a bit, knowing, somehow, that this was going to turn into a showcase for Medda, with a handful of boys and girls occasionally singing.


	2. Chapter 2

"And a one, and a two, and a one, two, three, four..." Medda's voice was calling out, in a terrible, thudding, repetitive manner, like she was a clock, beating perfect, and increasingly dull time. Perfect. Frighteningly perfect.

He wasn't even sure what he was doing there. He'd been promised alcohol. Thus far, no alcohol. He'd also been promised lovely ladies. And thus far, there were none. Just a room full of newsboys struggling to learn dance steps, some with greater ease than others.

"Alright. Lets call that a wrap. You all did quite well!" The tone of Medda's voice indicated that she was acting, when she said that, but the maniac fire in her eyes made it clear she was going to cast all of them, and somehow beat them into shape. "Now...if you'd all line up again, along the back, I'd like to hear some of you sing."

"Sing?" He couldn't help it, the word blurted out of his mouth, in shocked horror. Sing? Jack had not said anything about singing. Alright, he might have, but Spot had pushed it from his mind.

"Yes. Actually, I wanted to start with you, Spot. Here. Take this sheet music. I'll have Ingvar play the melody for you a bit, and we'll sing the lines together a few times, and then I'll have you do it alone. This character's name is Kenickie-"

"Kenickie? What the hell kind of name is that?" Spot took the sheet music with a dubious glare, wondering if this was some sort of slight on his manhood, and he was going to have to hit someone.

"It's Russian. Let me finish, Spot." Medda was starting to frown a bit, but Spot wasn't about to let it go.

"Do I look -Russian- to you, lady?" He crossed his arms, and frowned right back.

"He's the second most important male character in the show, Spot, and as such, I was intending to pay whoever was playing him more then the base pay for chorus members, but if you're not interested in the part..." Medda shrugged, turning to look at the rest of the boys lined up, as though hunting for someone else who might work for the role.

"How much more?" Spot shifted so he was in her line of sight.

Medda sighed, crossing her arms, although her eyes were twinkling a bit. "A dollar more a week. How about that?"

Spot stopped, and thought about it for a moment. An -extra- dollar, on top of the dollar Medda had already informed the boys she'd be paying all of them...?

"If he don't want it, I'll do it!" A voice from behind him pipped up, and Spot spun around, glaring at Blink.

"Shut it, Kid. No one asked you." Turning back to Medda, Spot nodded. "Alright. I'll do it. $2 a week, plus free run of the bar, and no questions if I disappear off with one of your dancers while we're taking a break from rehearsing."

"Harsh terms, Conlon, but...fine. Now. Sheet music, please. Ingvar? We're starting with Greased Lightening, right from the top. Please play Mr. Conlon's melody a few times?"


End file.
